Tracks
by xooxu
Summary: Harvey knows something is wrong. But sometimes life just decides to go on a different track. -slash, Marvey?-
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: Harvey knows something is wrong. But sometimes life just decides to go on different tracks.**

**Warnings: slash, Marvey?**

**1. of Montreal, Kate Chopin, Miller Lite, and the Taste of Armano Averna**

**&break&**

It's the song that sets him off. It isn't really a song Harvey or Mike normally listen to, but Mike likes the band, and so Harvey's heard it before. Harvey's tempted to smash his stereo to pieces just to get the lyrics it's pumping at him away from him.

_I don't want you anymore. I don't love you anymore. Go away, go away, go away, go away. You're a bad thing, terrible thing._

What does it say about all of Harvey's bluster and confidence that he takes those arrows of words straight in the heart? He doesn't know why they bother him so badly now, of all times. He just feels … wrong listening to it being played so loud when he's just gotten home and he's tired and a little stressed and if this Clierson-Torrid case takes any longer, so help him. The song felt intentional, like a message. Because Mike rarely bothers to syncs his iPod up with the stereo; he would rather just listen on his earphones.

"Hey kid. I'm home," Harvey calls out against the current of music. He's certain that his tentative voice drowns in the sea, but he hears a miniscule "okay" float along the stream. So he swims against the rush to the living room, shedding his jacket and loosening his tie as he goes.

The way Mike's curled up with one of Harvey's hard beers and book that Harvey read maybe some fifteen years ago in college that did nothing but confuse him and make him hate feminists and their stupid romances doesn't settle his unease.

"You okay?" Harvey can't help but ask. He doesn't know what he's expecting. Can't really imagine what could be wrong. They were okay, right? Mike was here on his day off, even though Harvey wasn't, and they had had sex after breakfast this morning, even though Harvey ended up being late because of that, and more than half the bookshelf was Mike's and for a five month old relationship, that was okay. That was on track. Good even, if his few excursions during university, before law was his life and he didn't have time for commitment, were anything to go by.

But Mike's eyes when he glances up, dull and bored and so … hollow, are not okay. Not good. Not the eyes Harvey should be seeing five months in to a relationship that is moving forward in all the right ways.

"M'fine," Mike mumbles, before burying himself back down in his book. "Why?"

"I don't know. Just wondering. So," Harvey says, laying his jacket across the back of the couch and sliding into the seat next to Mike, "how was your day off?"

"Uneventful. I went over to my apartment. Grabbed some stuff and cleaned out my fridge. Never use it anyway," Mike tells his book, low and distracted. The wave of the chorus crashes against him and Harvey can barely hear him.

Go away.

Go away.

Go away.

Go away.

"Do you mind if I turn that down?"

"Hmm," is all Mike graces him with.

**&break&**

Harvey talks himself into thinking that is just some phase of their relationship. Because they can't just have sex at all conceivable hours of the day and flirt inappropriately inconspicuously at work when they can't. They need to mature past that at some point. And maybe Mike's a little bored with the repetition (mind-blowing sex can only be mind-blowing for so long when it happens all the time), so he's finding ways to work around that. Maybe listening to of Montreal and reading _The Awakening _is his way of getting comfortable.

He's just doing it faster than Harvey.

A few nights later, and after as many days without anything physical (they've both been exhausted over this case), Harvey presses up against Mike's sleeping form and nibbles on the exposed spot behind his ear that Harvey knows about, trails a hand over his stomach. It's their thing. This is Harvey's sign, his offer, his _"please?"_

Mike wakes up almost immediately. He lets go of a soft groan almost carelessly, tilting his head to make Harvey's job easier. Harvey smirks and rolls his hips into Mike's thigh.

There's a sharp intake of breath before Harvey catches the flutter of Mike's eyelids.

"Harvey … Harvey wait."

And everything stops instantly. "What's wrong?" The words are out before Harvey can process them. He sits up, looks down at the shadowy contours that he can make out in the light from his windows.

It's like a chiaroscuro, the light haze illuminating Mike's face and casting deep shadows across his body and the folds in the sheets as he turns his head and Mike's not looking at Harvey. The lawyer can tell by the shine that he's looking out of the window at the dark, sparkling skyline. "I … I'm just exhausted. And it's hot. And Louis's briefs are starting to get to me. If he hands off another pro bono to me, I might just kill him."

Harvey's not fooled, but he lets it go, afraid to push too hard in case he breaks something he shouldn't. Mike doesn't move then, but he doesn't fall asleep either. Neither does Harvey for the longest time before he finally says a quiet, "Okay."

He throws his feet over the side and stands up. He completely expecting (hoping, praying) Mike will ask after him, because that would be a good thing, right? But he's only partly surprised when he stretches and walks slowly to the door in complete silence.

He needs a beer. His fridge is stocked with imported, premium lagers, some of which Harvey only ever drinks on special occasions or with very special clients. His fingers trail over one of dark glass bottles for a long second. But the six pack that Mike had brought over from his fridge stands out like Abercrombie among Armani. He drops his brand for one of Mike's bottles. That six pack, now reduced to three bottles, means something to him. Because it's in Harvey's fridge. Because that makes it _their_ six pack. Maybe even in _their _fridge. It was just one more part of their life that was becoming less and less _Harvey_ and _Mike_, and just becoming _Mike and Harvey_. Harvey wonders if he's always been a romantic at heart, or if this is something Mike is doing to him.

Harvey takes a sip of the cheap beer and the taste takes him back to the fraternity days. Harvey cringes at both sensations.

Harvey never likes to admit that he's worried to anyone, especially himself. But lying isn't going to make it better. He doesn't think that he can make this problem go away with a few tricks and an ass load of charisma. Harvey can't waste time in denial. Not if Mike's already in it.

Harvey doesn't hear the door, but he manages not to jump when he feels a pair of arms around his waist. Mike presses his cheek against Harvey's shoulder, and when he mumbles against his skin, Harvey gets goosebumps from the warm air he puffs out.

"I'm sorry, Harvey. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, or your pride, or whatever it is I hurt. I've just been stressed."

Harvey looks down at the bottle and tries to think back over the past few days. Mike had been working nonstop during the day, always running for something for Louis or for Harvey, or even some of his own work that had started trickling in. But when he got home, typically between ten and twelve, he did nothing. He didn't pour himself over files like he used to when he and Harvey worked on cases exclusively. He mainly just changed and tucked into a different book every night read for an hour or two, then climbed into bed.

"You know if you ever get too overwhelmed, kid, just tell me. I'll kick Louis's ass."

"M'don't want to talk about Louis. Or work. I'm just tired."

Harvey sets the beer down on the counter and turns in Mike's arms, wrapping his own around the kid's back. "Okay, but my offer still stands. Maybe just because I want to kick his ass," Harvey says, smirking down at Mike. Harvey doesn't feel like he gains much from the small smile Mike humors him, but Harvey gets that something is wrong, and he's not going to fix it tonight, and definitely not by making half-assed jokes. But then Mike's face is pressed into the crook of Harvey's shoulder and his lips just lightly graze the older man's neck.

"Have fun with that," he mumbles, arms tightening in a quick hug before he lets go and backs up a step. "I'm going to go back to bed. You coming, or are you going to finish that?" Mike asks, motioning to the barely touched beer on the counter.

Harvey glances at it for a second, the initial thought of wasting beer weighed against going to sleep with Mike the forethought in his mind, before he remembers what brand it is. He laughs a little. "Good thing I grabbed one of the Millers."

When he looks back to Mike there's a strange expression on his face that Harvey can't place as he stares at the label on the bottle. Harvey doesn't like it, but he remembers that he's not going to be able to fix it tonight.

"Kid, can we talk tomorrow?"

Harvey can definitely place the wide eyes as they look to him. Mike's trying to cover his fears, but Harvey beats him to it. "Don't freak out, pup," he says, leaning up and placing a light kiss on his associate's forehead before murmuring, "Just a talk. I would do it tonight, but we're both tired."

When Harvey looks back in Mike's eyes, the scared expression is still hiding there, but the rest of his features are calm. "Aye, aye, Captain," he says tentatively. "About what?"

"I don't know. Louis. And work. And beer. Just stuff."

There's a moment of complete confusion, but Harvey sees the moment it clicks. But all he says is a bland, "Okay," before he grabs onto on of Harvey's hands and walks back towards the bedroom door.

**&break&**

"So …" Harvey starts, not knowing where to begin really. He flips the eggs a little distractedly and the white smears on one, already cooking into a white streak. "Do I really need to kick Louis's ass?"

"Hmm?" Mike says, coffee to his lips and his eyes still swollen with sleep. "No, I guess not. Not immediately, at least. If he gives me anything else today before I can get you what you need for the Clierson-Torrid case, you have my permission, though."

"Kid, I don't need your permission to kick anyone's ass," Harvey says playfully, half turning and shaking his spatula at the younger. "But okay. So … besides work, what's been up lately?" He's trying to tread lightly here. Harvey's not sure what's going on, if Mike really is just getting bored with Harvey, or if it's got something to do with all but living in Harvey's condo. Or maybe if Trevor or Jenny or Rachel is somehow back in the picture in a big way.

It smashed Harvey in the face that he just wondered if his- if Mike was cheating on him. The idea blanches him and he suddenly feels a chill running bone deep and a little more than a little nauseated. Mike wouldn't- he just could not do that, not the naive puppy that Harvey- that- Oh god, was Mike cheating on him?

He's glad he's turned back to the stove, and he forces himself to save their eggs as casually as he can from burning without shaking. He can't help the slight quiver in his unnervingly pale hands as he slides the spatula under one egg, though. He berates himself for even thinking the thought. Mike … Mike idolized Harvey. The kid, heaven forbid, _cared_ about Harvey in ways that Harvey can honestly say no had in years. He feels guilty for thinking like that, and he knows he should.

"What do you mean?" Mike asks from behind him, after taking a noisy sip.

"You been … aloof. Lately."

"Aloof?" Mike asks with slight incredulity.

Harvey nods to himself, sliding the ready eggs from the pan to a plate before turning around, and scraping two of the eggs with a spatula onto Mike's plate on the table. "Well, besides the fact that the last time we had sex was exactly five days ago on this table …" Harvey trails off and sits down, looking down at the offending piece of furniture fondly, before looking Mike straight in the eye, "you haven't exactly … been you. You know, asked if we wanted to do anything or pleaded to watch Ironman, or-"

"I don't plead," Mike interjects huffily, and Harvey smiles because that's good. Better. Back to normal and back on track.

"You so plead." Harvey teases, taking a bite of his egg. "But still. Is it just stress from work? Really?"

"I …" Mike starts, but Harvey watches him, floundering and searching for words in his plate of over-easies. "I think so. I hadn't really noticed, I guess. I've just had more work than when I first became an associate recently and I just been too tired to notice anything really."

Harvey's mouth tastes of straight Amaro Averna Liqueur and lies, bitter and unpleasant. It's the taste he always gets when he knows a client isn't being honest.

But like the (fantastic) lawyer he is, Harvey keeps his calm.

"I'm so going to kick Louis's ass."

**&break&**

**a/n: So, uh, yeah. Not quite a fluffy bunny happy start. It's not really my style to write pre-existing relationships, but at least I'm not just fluffing up the good times. It's got a plot. And a Drama Llama. Gotta love the Drama Llama. First Suits fic, btw. Lemme know how I do.**

**I've got a general over-arcing plot. (It goes something like: 1. Harvey/Mike, 2. No Harvey/Mike, 3. Harvey/Mike again.) However the minor details (like everything else) are still in the works. Which means for you that I will take a long time writing chapters. Sorry. :D**

**So, yeah. I do hope you enjoy. :) Please review.**

**Oh, and the song referenced is **_**Famine Affair**_** by of Montreal. The book is **_**The Awakening**_** by Kate Chopin. If you haven't heard of of Montreal, I totally suggest them, and that song. If you haven't read **_**The Awakening**_**, I don't really suggest it. Just know that it's about a married woman in the south in the 1800s who falls in love with someone else, but then she starts sleeping around and acting all not female like. But really boring.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: Harvey knows something is wrong. But sometimes life just decides to go on different tracks.**

**Warnings: slash, Marvey?**

**2. Donna, cab fairs, BEISTIE Boys, and Nature Valley**

**&break&**

Torrid ends up deciding to settle for a price that Clierson enjoys, and that night Mike and Harvey celebrate with loads of nice beer and not-really-but-totally-cuddling on the couch while they watch The Watchmen, followed by rather satisfying sex on both parts. And Harvey, as he's lying there panting, tangled in the sheets and staring up at the ceiling, lets himself believe that maybe things are better now.

**&break&**

For a while, they do appear to be.

The merger Harvey now has to focus on is tedious, but less stressful for both of them. Mike's still drowning slightly in Louis's work, but he promises Harvey that he can handle it as long as nothing else gets dumped on him.

Harvey's late three days the next week, but so is Mike, and Harvey can't help but smile warmly at Mike's slightly mussed up hair when no one else is looking. On the third day, Donna finally says something. "So is everything back to normal between you two?" The redhead states bluntly in lieu of a greeting as they both watch Mike amble off to his cubical.

"Whatever do you mean?" Harvey asks coyly, not really putting effort into his deflection. He's assumed for a while that Donna is on the "knows" list.

"God, he looked so down on himself for a while there," Donna continues like Harvey hadn't said anything. "Were you too hard on him or something?"

"No. He says he's just swamped. I believe it."

Donna shifts her gaze from Mike's receding form to Harvey, eyebrow raised. "Do you?"

Maybe Harvey doubts himself, but he'll never admit it. "I believe him," he answers smoothly. And Harvey means every word of it so resoundingly even he can't deny how it makes him sound like he's in-

"Oh, god. You're in over your head." Donna says this with a mock repulsion, but Harvey would have wasted the past seven years working with her if he couldn't catch the affection in her voice. "Just don't let it blindside you," she warns, though, all playfulness gone.

"I won't," he replies, equally serious.

"Good. Now go," she waves him off, turning back to her desk. "I actually work here, you know." Harvey accepts the tease, because that's how they work. He just shakes his head with a smile as he retreats to his glass office.

**&break&**

It's Saturday a few weeks later and it's the first time in a long while that Mike has to go in but Harvey doesn't. He could, though, and seriously considers it since he doesn't know what he's going to do with himself. But he has virtually no work, and he doesn't really want Jessica to think that he's looking for more work than he needs, so he stays in bed while Mike sits up and stretches. He does, however, watch him in the dim light of the early morning, admiring the way his muscles move and pull. Mike's always been too thin, but Harvey still hasn't completely gotten used to being able to count ribs. Not that Harvey doesn't find Mike attractive, he just wishes the kid would eat more.

Harvey grins as Mike catches him looking and yawns. "Like something you see?" he asks, voice a little raw from sleep, but still sexy in that puppy way of his.

"Mmm, and if I do?" Harvey's smile widens playfully as Mike starts to climb over him, mischievously slow.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah really. But you know, it's getting late. You really should get to work. I hear your boss is a total d-"

Mike cuts him off with a coquette kiss, and Harvey smiles into it. Mikes breaks it off just as it starts to deepen, words on his lips while Harvey's still chasing them. "You know, maybe you're right. He is the world's biggest prick."

Harvey laughs as he play-tackles him, "You're not going anywhere, now, pup."

An hour or so later, Mike gets out of the shower in a hurry because now he is running late, and on his bike he's got no chance of making it in at a reasonable time, even though Harvey's place is closer. Harvey watches Mike rush around trying to get his skinny tie on straight, hair still damp and in complete disarray. Harvey's still a mess, but he feels like having a slow morning today. He contemplates calling Ray for Mike, but it would take the man half an hour just to get here in the morning traffic. So he does the next best thing he can think of.

"Mike, why don't you call a cab today?"

"Because that would be a forty dollar fair," Mike says hurriedly as he slides on his jacket.

"My wallet's in the pants I wore yesterday."

Mike stops, one arm at an awkward angle halfway through the sleeve, belt through the loops but not yet buckled, and looks at Harvey still naked in the sheets. It's only a split second look, but it's not what Harvey's expecting, really. He was thinking relief that he might be at work early enough to get something done, or a bit taken aback that Harvey offered, or tenderness that they were at this level, or … something like that. But instead he looked … pained? Not quite, but, it was a look that made Harvey's stomach tighten with a familiar worry.

Before Harvey can really process it, the expression is gone and Mike is dressing again, walking over to the clothes dumped on the floor (a habit Harvey only partakes in when Mike's involved), and pulling out the Giorgio Armani Saffiano leather wallet. Harvey feels a little anxious, but he can't understand why. But Mike chuckles a little. "I don't think I've actually looked through your wallet, before," the kid says, slightly humored.

"Is it everything you ever dreamt it would be?" Harvey teases back, but he's still not settled.

"Not enough cliché plastic gold."

"I don't need it. I've got enough cliché plastic platinum."

"If you say so," Mike answers around a chuckle. He flips it open to the pocket where Harvey keeps his small bills and pulls out enough to barely cover the cost of one cab ride. Harvey almost tells him to take another twenty, just in case, but he stops just as the words hit his throat, suddenly afraid that maybe they hadn't hit this level yet.

It makes sense. Maybe Harvey was rushing Mike.

Maybe Harvey was in over his head.

So Harvey lets the kid take what he thinks is an appropriate amount. Mike puts the wallet on the dresser by the door and grabs his shoulder bag. He looks at Harvey at the door, and Harvey makes himself believe that he imagined the forced look in Mike's smile.

"Thanks. Have fun without me."

Harvey smiles back at him. He wishes he could say "easily," but he can't. "You know it."

Mike leaves, letting the door stand ajar, so Harvey watches him walk through the living room for as long as he can, his smile dropped.

**&break&**

Harvey forces himself to not think about any of it. Then he pretends that he never worried in first place. Because isn't that how he used to be? Harvey Specter doesn't worry. About anything. Especially not about relationships. Especially when he can convince himself it's all in his head anyway.

Things are better now. It had been more than a month ago when he'd walked through the door to be greeted by hateful lyrics, and to be completely honest with himself, Harvey had no proof that that meant anything at all. It was just a song, and a song Mike did listen to occasionally. It wasn't like Harvey came home to heavy metal screaming at him or anything, just a song with unsettling lyrics. In all likelihood, Mike hadn't even contemplated that Harvey would think anything into it. In all likelihood, Harvey had only thought something into the song. He had been stressed, too, and maybe his defenses were a little too far down.

Either way, even if there had been something wrong then, it was long forgotten now by both of them. Well, except when the song pops into Harvey's head whenever he finds himself thinking idly of Mike during his busiest work hours. And how he always has to bury himself down in his work and put on a record to nip any thoughts that came with it in the bud. And except for when little things like this happen, and Harvey automatically assumes things are going to return to that week and a half where neither of them talked to each other really and Mike just read, and Harvey drank a tad bit too much and-

But they aren't going to go back to that. At least, they probably won't now, but even when they have their rough patches down the road, they would only be that. Patches.

After two cups of coffee drunk slowly and a hot shower, the day is already boring and empty. He settles on cleaning. A good, all day, organize and de-clutter type of clean that his apartment has missed for longer than it should.

An hour later, he remembers why he hasn't done this since Mike, officially or un-, moved in.

He gives up after giving the piles of Mike's things one last rueful glare. It's mainly older CD cases, a couple of DVDs, and then his books, in stacks that are somewhat sorted, somewhat just plopped there. Harvey has a system for all of these things: CDs by year fist, alphabetically by artist; DVDs sorted by title, and books split by work and fun, then by author. It's easy, mindless busywork, typically.

Now, however, Harvey can't get past the look he got when he told Mike to fish through his wallet. The more Harvey lets himself worry about it, the more he recognizes the look from the night he drank one of Mike's Millers.

Harvey wants to make room on his shelves for Mike's CDs. It doesn't even matter that they're cracked and blistering the way old plastic does, or that it's the BEASTIE Boys. Neither of them really use CDs anyway, each preferring music in their own ways, so its not like it should matter. But the hesitation of _Mike_ and _Harvey_ is back in a way that Harvey's not sure he felt even in this relationship.

When they had taken that first big, awkward step toward _something_, neither of them really noticed or cared about the clothes Mike would leave behind, and the dirty laundry only made Harvey laugh a little, and at least he knew Mike's suits were getting properly dry-cleaned. Then, really, that big ugly step toward _relationship_ felt, well, not really big or ugly. It was slower, in smaller steps, like Mike spending more nights in Harvey's bed, like Harvey finding a foreign toothbrush and razor at his sink, like a couple of books at a time stacking up by the couch that Harvey hadn't bought.

But now … Now things aren't as innocent as a toothbrush and some light reading. Harvey has more tact than to pretend like it is.

Harvey sets down the case in his hand. He can't remember what it holds, he's been staring at the ominous stack for so long, like answers will magically spout for it if he's patient enough. He needs a drink. It's only noon, but one beer to get his mind off things should help. Just one.

**&break&**

Harvey knows Mike's going to be mad when he hears the key in the door. He just know it. It's like how Nature Valley is shit that taste good. He knows.

Harvey wants some Nature Valley right now. He doesn't own any. Why is that? Oh, it's shit. That tastes good. Mmh, Nature Valley. Harvey wants some.

The door closes quietly, but Harvey can hear it. Whoa. Oh shit, Mike's home. He's going to be mad at Harvey. He giggles into the pillow. Harvey doesn't want Mike mad at him, but Harvey's never seen him mad. Harvey's been mad at Mike. It's only turnabout.

Except Harvey always had a reason to be mad at Mike. Like that time Mike punched … that … one guy. In the face. Harvey had yelled at Mike. Harvey hadn't really been mad though. That … guy was a jerk. Is a jerk. Mike's going to be mad. But what reason does Mike have to be mad. Harvey hasn't punched anyone. … Recently. He did punch Johnas in middle school. A lot. Oh, and he got in a few fights with, um, with … Lewis? Langly? L … something. L. L. L-l-l-l. La lee loo lay low.

Harvey giggles even louder when he sees Mike turn the corner. He doesn't look mad. No, not immediately. He buries his head into the pillow to stop the giggles. What a girly word. Giggle. Giggly. Giggly goo. Gig-

"What the hell?"

Harvey unburies his head and looks up at Mike. He looks mad.

Harvey was right. He wants some Nature Valley.

"Mike, d'we 've Nature Val-… Valley?"

"What? No, Harvey, how much did you drink?"

Mike's mad. It makes Harvey feel bad, the way Mike hasn't moved an inch. He's motionless. Like a stature. Harvey wonders what Mike would be made out of if he were a stature. Probably metal. Harvey thinks Mike would like that. Metal. Like that one girl he had sex with in college who welded iron statures. But not like that dumb sheet metal, she would made full figure three dimensional forms.

"You'd be a metal stature, Mike. But not sheets, but like … 3D glasses."

"What? Harvey, why are you this drunk?"

"Because I drank."

"_Why?_ Why did you drink, Harvey?"

Harvey is wrong. Mike would be metal, he'd be marble or something. Something colder. He looked really mad.

"Ice!"

"You drank because of ice? What?"

"No, no, silly. You'd be ice instead. Metal's too cool for you. You're mad." Harvey giggles again. Mike's really cute when he's mad. His eyes are wide. Harvey can really see the blue. And he cheeks get a little blushed.

Harvey wants some Nature Valley.

The room tilts. Then the floor hits him in the face.

"Harvey!" Mike yells right beside of Harvey now. He's kneeling on the floor next to Harvey. "Harvey, are you okay?" Mike's hands are all over. That sound naughty. Sounds really fun, actually. But its not. They're on his face, turning it back and forth. Harvey should make it fun.

Mike's face hits him in the mouth.

"Jesus, Harvey!" Mike says, his face tilted back and cupping his nose. "What the fuck?"

"I wanted to make it fun …" Mike's mad now, but Harvey doesn't giggle. It doesn't make him want to giggle. Heh. Giggle. Giggle-giggle. Heh heh. Hehehe.

"_What_ is so funny at the moment, Harvey?"

"Giggle." It's a funny word. Word. Wooord. He he.

"Okay. Okay, Harvey, I think it's time for bed."

"Ooh. Frisky."

Mike just glares down at Harvey. He's still on the floor. "Whatever. Come on. Up."

Mikes mad as he scoops his arms under Harvey's arm pits. Harvey thinks he's trying to tickle him at first. That's what he would do to his brother years ago. When they were littler. More little? Smaller. He would hold him down and tickle him until he wet his pants. "I dun wanna wet my pants, Mike."

"What? Okay, okay. You need to go to the bathroom?"

"Wha'? No. I want Nature Valley."

Mike shakes his head. Harvey feels himself find his feet twenty feet away from himself and tumbles into Mike. Harvey likes Mike. He really likes Mike. He like likes Mike. Can you like like someone after the fifth grade?

"I like like you, Mike…"

"Okay Harvey. Can you focus on getting to bed?"

"I like you like that, too. You're fun in bed."

"Thanks. How about walking?"

" … I don't know how to walking like you?"

"No, Harv-"

Harvey presses his mouth against Mike, chaste. He feels like he did a better job than when he smashed Mike in the face. Maybe that's why Mike was mad at him. "Are you mad 'cause I smashed you in the face?"

Mike sighs, and Harvey knows he's mad. He's really, really mad.

"I'm sorry, Mike. I love you."

Mike doesn't say anything, just shifts his hold on Harvey and looks at the bedroom door. But Harvey feels like he should say something. That Harvey just told him the L word. Not lesbian. Heh. Lesbians. They aren't as hot as Mike is though.

"I said I love you."

"Is that why you're drunk?" Mike says shortly, still holding on to Harvey and glaring at the door.

"No. I'm drunk because of your CDs."

"What?"

Harvey forgot about that. Now he remembered. "I didn't know how to put them away. I was afraid you'd be mad if I put them with my stuff."

Mike doesn't say anything. He not holding on to Harvey, who is now sitting on the couch. And he's no longer looking at the bedroom door.

"I think you should sleep on the couch tonight, Harvey. We'll talk tomorrow when you're sober."

**&break&**

**a/n: Uh, yeah. Less fluff? Or more, depending on how you want to look at it. There will be more drama in the next chapter. Not so much fluff.**

**Sorry about the long update period. I had about half of this written a while ago, but then I wasn't sure where I wanted to take it. Then I wrote the second half today. I have more of the plot planned out, I just don't know how to space it. I'm afraid I'll just rush it and there won't be anything interesting.**

**I enjoyed writing a drunk Harvey. It was basically just my train of thought.**

**Sorry for any errors. Hope you liked it. Please review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary: Harvey knows something is wrong. But sometimes life just decides to go on different tracks.**

**Warnings: slash, Marvey?**

**3. Guinness, ****Technivorm Moccamaster, chips, Columbian, and the thirtieth floor**

**&break&**

Harvey's head is throbbing and he feels sick in the worst of ways. But what really is the worst is the fact that Harvey can remember almost everything. Like how he really did just start out with one Guinness and a ball game on. But then he finished the first one, and got another. Then just one more. Then he didn't even kid himself with the next three.

He didn't keep track of what he drank. It felt like a significant amount, even through the slight haze of drunkenness and irrationality, so it must have been a lot.

Harvey smells coffee at the same time he hears Mike running the faucet in the kitchen.

He thanks the gods that he chose Saturday to let his life fall apart and hopes that absolutely nothing has to call him to work so he can spend his Sunday trying to pick up the pieces.

Mike's sitting at the table, staring out of the windows. It's early, surprisingly, but Harvey knows that it's not yet seven because of the harsh glare the building across from his west side reflects into his condo for about fifteen minutes every morning. Harvey takes a moment to compose himself as best as his hangover will allow before making his way to the kitchen. Mike glances his way once on the trip, but then goes back to staring at the skyline. Harvey decides not to try to guess what kind of sign that is. He instead pours himself a mug of coffee and drinks it black. It's bitter and burnt in a way that Harvey knows has nothing to do with his Technivorm Moccamaster. Mike's drinking his the same way.

Harvey leans back against the counter. He doesn't know how to begin. He wonders on the side if there is someone who does. A person who knows exactly how to start the conversation about how they were drunk off their rocker alone last night for no apparent reason. Harvey probably wouldn't be that fond of them, despite how much he enjoys a good bit of tact.

"I'm sorry." That seems like a good start.

Mike … twitches. Like he's forcing himself not to look at Harvey. Like he wants to, though. "I'm sure you are." It should sound sharp and hurtful, but it doesn't. Harvey thinks it would be a little easier if it did, or at least it would make more sense. Instead its soft, almost gentle, but a tad bit colder than that.

"It started as just one drink."

"I know."

"Mike, really." Mike twitches again, turns his head the slightest fraction, but then stares more dutifully out of the window. "No, really…" Harvey relocates himself against the table. He can now see the rings under Mike's eyes, highlighted in light. "Mike, I was just … I just needed one drink. Then I had another. And then, I don't know. It seemed like a good idea at the time to get intoxicated."

"Harvey. I'm … I'm not mad that you were intoxicated. I'm mad that you were annihilated. There's no reason to get that drunk unless you're …" Mike looks at Harvey now, briefly, before he glances at the mug in his hand and sips from it. "I don't know, you're …"

"Unless I'm what?"

"I don't know!"

"No, please tell since you seam to be the authority on this." Harvey isn't angry. Not really. He isn't mad or even irritated at Mike. It's one of the few moments that Harvey has where he's being illogical and Harvey well knows it, but he can't bring himself to care.

"Unless you're unhappy or an alcoholic or you just got fired. And yeah, maybe I am, Harvey."

"Why on earth would you be the expert of getting hammered on a Saturday night? Which it was, by the way. That's not exactly weird. Drinking on Saturday night."

"No, it's not weird at all," Mike screams at Harvey's face, "loads of drunks do it all the time, drink themselves into oblivion by themselves, you know, just to have a good time. Not at all unusual."

"It's not like I showed up to work and vomited on Jessica's shoes! I just had a few too many last night!"

"A few? Harvey, a few—" Mike cuts himself off, shaking his head. His fingers are white around the porcelain cup, and his eyes are drilling into the marble table top. "I don't—I don't want this. I don't want a fight, Harvey. I just … have known too many people who always had a few too many, and their excuses remind me so much like yours. I don't need another relationship with someone who goes from drinks to chips and back again."

"What?" Harvey slides into the seat next to Mike, lifting the younger man's chin so that Harvey could meet his gaze. Mike's eyes flicker to Harvey's reluctantly. "Mike, I'm not … There's no way I'm an alcoholic."

The uncertainty in Mike's eyes bothers him.

"I don't drink that much, Mike. Just when I'm stressed."

Mike gives a weak laugh and nudges Harvey's hand away. His eyes stay on Harvey, though, so Harvey just wrap his fingers around the warm mug. "You're a lawyer, Harvey. When are you not stressed?"

Harvey gives a pitiful chuckle of his own. "True, but you know what I mean. I just. I … Mike, I just felt like you weren't happy here. You know. With me." Harvey says the second half into his cup, running one hand along the back of his neck. "And I don't know. I worked myself up over it. I felt like you weren't—that _we_ weren't on the same page or whatever, and that you were unhappy because of it."

Harvey's still staring at the dark brown Columbian in his cup, but he feels the silence too strongly to chance a look at Mike.

It takes a long time for Mike to say anything. Harvey wants to say too long, but he's not sure what an appropriate length of time would be after that. "I'm not unhappy here. At all. That's really not what's … what's been going on."

"Then please, Mike. What has?"

"It's nothing big. Really. I feel really bad that you're even worried."

"It's okay."

"No really. I didn't even think …" Mike trails off, eyes slowly traveling to the window.

"Mike?" Harvey says, staring intently. He needs to know that it has all just been in his head. That nothing is wrong, or going to go wrong. Harvey lets himself admit that it's selfish and a bit cruel to force Mike to talk about something he obviously isn't ready for, that Mike might just tell a lie to sate Harvey.

For the second time in less than five minutes, Harvey acts irrational and can't bring himself to care.

"Mike, please tell me what's going on. I can't … I obviously can't take thinking that something is wrong." Harvey pleads, something he can't remember doing seriously in years, and sinks into the chair next to Mike, trying to make him look Harvey in the eye.

Mike squeezes Harvey's hand back, and Harvey can't really remember taking the younger's hand in his. But he just holds on tighter.

"I … Harvey, nothing's wrong. It's that everything is too perfect." There's a pause where it looks like Mike's hoping that the words he's looking for will magically appear out of his coffee. "Remember when Louis tricked me into smoking pot? You said that most addicts fail early on because they think that the fall will be easier from the third floor rather than the thirtieth? It's like that. I'm just scared to … I don't know, be happy, because I don't think my life's ever gone so right."

Confusion hits Harvey first, but it flees quickly from the small spark of anger that Harvey can't help feeling. Mike had to be kidding; it's too perfect? That's why he's been putting Harvey on edge for months? But then relief, oh god, relief floods him in the corniest sense of the word that Harvey didn't believe possible. They were okay, Harvey could make them okay. His laughter bubbles up in short chuckles that Harvey can't help, despite how serious the situation is. Mike, of course, looks right at him, and there's a very slight hurt edge in his eyes, but Harvey's just so _relieved_. Harvey needs to let Mike know that this is good, great, but he chuckles all through the kiss. He can't stop until he finally pulls back to look Mike in the eyes, and even then he's grinning like an idiot. The words are out before Harvey can really process them.

"We can fix that, Mike."

Mike looks a little breathless from that kiss. In whatever hindsight his elated mind allows, Harvey knows that he probably still tasted like alcohol and shit, and hopes that the unbelievably strong coffee helped. He doubts it, but he can't honestly bring himself to care. He thinks a little about his next word. Mainly how true they are.

"You're not going to fall, Mike. I promise. I wouldn't drop you."

**&break&**

**a/n: This chapter feels short to me. Sorry if it does to you, too. That just felt like the most natural close. I wrote another segment to it, but it didn't fit right, so I left it like that. **

**Sorry again about the long update period. I think this one was a bit shorter, though, right? **

**Errors are numerous, and I apologize. Let me know if there are any glaring ones, please. **

**BTWs, while this story is moving much quicker that it did in my head, we are no where near done. I'm imagining about another fifteen to twenty chapters, which will like turn into something more like ten when I start getting lazy because I'm feeling guilty that it's been god knows how many months already. I do, however, have a more concrete story line in my head, so hopefully, things will be moving a tiny bit quicker. Note, however, I said "in my head", so if when I start writing it, things go haywire and suddenly everyone's in Bangkok with Mike Tyson's tattoo all over their face, that's just how it goes and then all my promises about chapters and updates will be void. **

**I'm thinking I'm going to go ahead and reply to comments here (I don't think I've replied to anybody yet), just to make life easier on me. I also think that regular replies should be made public, anyway, so authors putting replies in stories has always resonated with me. **

**Boondock Winchester****: Thank you! Hope you still enjoy it. :D**

**SMZ619****: Yeah. Unfortunately, the whole story is going to make you worry, but I hope the ending will make up for it. :D And I'm glad you like Harvey POV, too! I'm a huge fan. Not enough of it in my opinion.**

**TkMomijiOXkisaHiro****: Thank you! **

**l-girl: I'm tryin to gte updates out there. In my opinion, it ends happily. **

**hana-to-mame****: Thanks you very much! :]**

**ProphecyCat : It's breaking mine too! And I know how it ends! :'( It's going to get better though, I promise. Just … eventually.**


End file.
